Unsent Letters
by Ph0enixS0ng
Summary: What is the definition of love? How can one word that encompasses so much ever be explained? Eiri Yuki, Shuichi Shindou shounen ai.


**Title:** _Unsent Letters_

**Author:** _AznEyes_

**Rated: **K+

**Genre: **Romance Drama

**Disclaimer:** Gravitation, Maki Murakami.

**Summary:** What is the definition of love? How can a word that encompasses so much ever be explained? Eiri Yuki, Shuichi Shindou shounen-ai.

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**Author's Note: **Haha, I'm at work right now and I probably shouldn't be slacking off like this, but I've had my first fanfic brainwave in a long time, so I just had to write it down. This fic is told from Shuichi Shindou's perspective. I have yet to decide if I should keep it at a one-shot or if I should continue. Hmm . . . Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading it, and don't forget to review! XD Oh wait, I'd also like to thank Herdio, a reviewer for Tides of Change, that gave me the idea of unsent letters.

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Shuichi Shindou glanced out the window of his apartment. It was a beautiful sunny day outside, one that promised no rain. It was the type of day that birds would sing about, that squirrels would dance to, that butterflies would paint with their beauty; it was _not _the type of day to be stuck indoors with a sore throat.

Shindou glanced down at the notebook on his blanketed lap and sighed. Such was the life of the lead singer of Bad Luck. His producer, Sakano, did not want him to go out and make his condition worse, despite his pleadings otherwise.

'Please, Sakano! I'll be fine! If anything, the fresh air will make me feel better!' he had whined in that typical teenage manner.

"No, Shindou-kun," Sakano had said sternly. "You have to stay indoors. Maybe you can work on that song of yours, hmm?"

Not that he was subtly hinting anything.

The teen sighed and leaned back against the headboard, thinking hard.

'Hmm . . . What should come next?' he asked himself aloud, reading through the last verse that he had written.

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_Last time I saw you_

_We had just split in two_

_You were looking at me_

_I was looking at you_

_You had a way so familiar_

_But I could not recognize_

'_Cause you had blood on your face_

_I had blood in my eyes_

_But I could swear by your expression_

_That the pain down in your soul_

_Was the same_

_As the one down in mine_

_That's the pain_

_That cuts a straight line_

_Down through the heart_

_We called it love (1)_

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Shindou's mind began to wander to a tall, handsome blond that had consumed his thoughts of late more often than anything else. After flipping over to a new page, he began to write.

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_How can love be defined? That is a question that people have been asking each other for ages and ages hence, and yet . . . its definition is so cliché in today's society. The common definition of love then, if that's what you want to call it, is that sudden spark that people feel upon meeting, that feeling of power and helplessness that you feel when you're together, that feeling of anxiety and comfort that you feel when you're apart._

_But that is just the definition of love between lovers . . . but what of the love shared between a husband and wife? Is that feeling of love as powerful, or is it more or less so than at its moment of conception? And what of the love between two friends? Between a mother and daughter, a father and son, or any combination of the above? How about that of an aunt, an uncle, a cousin, a niece, or a nephew? How about the love of a stranger?_

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He paused for a moment to peruse what he had written. Then he continued.

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_So when you tell someone that you love them, what are you really trying to say? That you love them as a lover would, or as a friend? All humans have the capacity to love, and yet there are those who choose not to . . . Maybe because to do so would be akin to giving up a part of yourself to that person. It is certainly possible to love freely and expect nothing in return from that person, but it is equally certain that that would be a difficult thing to accept._

_As humans, we will always desire something more, whether it be for ourselves or for others that we care about. When we love someone, you give up a part of yourself for them, and yet millions upon millions of people have done so willingly, if only to possess that often-fleeting emotion called love. People love in order to love; there is no other reason._

_Oftentimes, I have asked myself whether or not I really love you, or if it is merely your aura of mystery and seduction that appeals to me. Even while writing this letter, I do not claim to know. I do not even know a lot about you, so how am I to know if I love you or not?_

_. . . But such a petty detail holds no significance to me. I do not have to know you, not as long as I know about the feelings I experience when I think of you, when I am with you. Your joys have become mine, as have your sorrows . . . but the burden is worth it. I would wait for as long as I have to just to see you smile. I crave those moments when your shadows disappear, even if it is only for a short while._

_. . . And your kisses . . . I can never forget our first kiss, the feelings of surprise and peace mingling together in my mind. I was so confused, and yet I would give anything to feel that confusion again, that mind-boggling conflict between logic and instinct . . . that feeling . . . _those _feelings . . . of love . . ._

_Yes, I suppose that I do love you, if love can be defined as such. I could stare into your beautiful eyes for hours at a time, I could write songs in your name, I could carve my heart out with a spoon upon your request . . . and all because of these emotions that I have._

_Is this what love feels like? I have only experienced this type of love but once before, and the ending of that relationship crushed me to no end . . . Will ours end in the same manner? I do not know, but I think that lingering threat both mortalizes and beautifies our relationship. Knowing that it can end at any given time makes me appreciate it all the more, and while it still exists, while we're still together, I want to give myself into it completely._

_There is no absolute definition of love, because it is a word that encompasses many things, and yet it still does not encompass enough. When you want to tell someone that you love them, how can that one word include everything that you feel for that person? How can that one word proclaim your joys, your sorrows, your anxieties, your pleasures . . . all those emotions that you feel and experience throughout a second spent together? But maybe love isn't measured in units of time spent together. Maybe it is really measured in units of time spent apart. _

_I do not know, but even without knowing, I _can _comfortably say that I love you, Eiri Yuki. I love you. I do not know if you feel the same way, but for now, just giving you my love is enough. You, who I would not make the mistake of calling the sunshine after the rain, for that would be an insult to your character. I would not even dare to call you the rainbow, for that reveals a lack of independence that you do not possess. Rather, I would call you the clouds, the one that causes the tears to fall. Yes, tears, for I weep when I am with you, and I weep when I am without you, because every part of me belongs to you. My heart is yours._

I _am yours, Yuki._

_Shuichi Shindou._

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'There!' Shindou proclaimed aloud. 'It's finished!'

'You finished the song!' Sakano exclaimed incredulously, craning his head through the open door.

'Um . . . Not yet. I just thought of something else to add,' Shindou said quickly.

A wail of despair followed and his manager disappeared.

The teenager sighed and tore the page from his notebook. Then he stood up to retrieve an envelope from his desk drawer and, after folding up the letter, he slipped it inside.

Not a moment later, the letter was sealed with Yuki's name and address printed neatly on the front.

'Now I just need a stamp,' Shindou mumbled.

'What was that, Shindou?' Nakano Hiroshi, the teen's best friend and fellow band member, called out.

'Nothing,' Shindou replied, secretly thinking, "Honestly, those two have ears like foxes". He opened another desk drawer and pulled out a book of stamps. After carefully detaching one, he licked the glue at the back and cleanly stuck it onto the corner of the envelope. 'There. It's done.'

Feeling satisfied with himself, Shindou climbed back into bed and placed the letter at the corner of his nightstand, so that he would remember to send it later. After pulling the covers over him, he sighed and closed his eyes to take a nap. (After all, who cared if Sakano wanted the song from him? He'd finished it eventually . . . maybe . . .)

Not a minute after he had closed his eyes, however, the teen opened them again to look at the letter. He hesitated for a moment, then reached for it and scraped the stamp off, allowing the pieces to crumble to the ground.

He sighed and slipped the letter into the drawer of his nightstand. He would send the letter one day, but that day was not today . . . and maybe not tomorrow or the day after . . .

. . . maybe not at all . . .

After all, who was he to claim to know the definition of love? To him, love was the vision of blond hair. To him, love was the sound of a strong voice.

To him, love was a name . . .

. . . _Eiri Yuki _. . . (2)

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(1) Mini-Disclaimer: "Origin of Love" song from "Hedwig and the Angry Inch" movie. Haha, you didn't really think I wrote that myself, did you? It's an awesome song! Listen to it if you can. (The movie was sort of freaky in some parts though O.o)

(2) Author's Note: Eww, I don't particularly like the ending. It didn't turn out the way I wanted because I suddenly had writer' block. Haha, I guess that's what happens when I haven't written in so long.


End file.
